windy shoremy word prints wash awayas I make them
turning into myselfthe one when i wasbefore i was
earthly dreamseasonal progression ofevergreen
noomoonenon
in summer lightin the present tenseon an empty page
ending time . . .the universe folds backinto itself
my feet crack openwith the pain of the earth
desert lamentno comfort is there — nonefor they are no more
pleadingwholly innocencebarely-beens
dromedaries sail inland seas
at year's endnew year cicadas beginto tune up
reading aloudmy tongue brings to lifea mother tongue
deeperinto nothingthe words
all ages fantail beyond knowing
time to sleep through when
a reed of itself in sound
La NiñaI feel ya tropical heat
what luck!the scent of freesiaswhile longing for them
inside preternatural nature walk
a balmy nightand my brain barelyprocessing words
beatific visionthrough clouds of unknowingspring cataract
a nightmareof falling awakefledgeling owl
peony blooman idea of orderbeyond reason
bees too failto recreate the scentof grapefruit blossoms
sprung rhythms . . .the poems the makerof the poet
a sea viewfilled with countless flawsmissing the point
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